The Peacock 38

 This dining room is huge.  And beautifully appointed with the indigo blue walls set off by wood trim painted ivory.  Like sitting inside Wedgewood.  I see more paintings, a mountain landscape, an ocean sunset and a still life, huge, of abundant fruit spilling out of the bowl.  We are eight seated at the huge rectangular mahogany table.  I happen to know it's mahogany because Carl, next to whom I am seated, just told me.  Aaron is on my right, and Jesús directly across from me.  On the other side of Aaron and Jesús I see two members of the community, then Carol and Melissa, seated across from each other at the very end, in apparent female solidarity.  

We are just finishing the first course, a butternut squash soup laced with spicy peanut satay.  

Carol says, "This soup is out of this world!"

Melissa replies "It´s an adaptation of an Indonesian dish.  As you may well know," she adds, by way of explanation, "Indonesia was once a Dutch colony, and our cooking has a lot of Indonesian influences." Melissa, who at first I assumed to be autistic, seems to be very eager to explain and educate.  Tending towards the didactic. Neither of the community members have spoken so much as a word since they sat down with us.  They are both young men, both wear glasses, slim, one is more blonde, the other seems perhaps Filipino.  Both are dressed casually, T shirts and jeans. Carol alone has taken the effort to actually dress for dinner.  She is turned out remarkably like she was when I saw her in concert ten years ago.  That could be even the same black cocktail dress.  No one seems to have a lot to say, given how amped out we all are from that long discourse this afternoon.  So much to digest, along with all this delicious food.

Carl leaves briefly then returns bearing a huge glass bowl of salad.  He suddenly suggests for me a kind of handsome earth deity celebrating the early harvest.  With his luminous smile he sets the bowl at the far end of the table, near Carol and Melissa and begins to mete out individual servings.

Again, I notice the soft brown eyes of Jesús strangely focussed on me, as though gently caressing my face.  As I look back, he lowers his gaze, smiles gently, and I think I can see him blushing slightly.  Then, looking up at me as he spears a cherry tomato with his fork, he says to me, "Cosme, tell me about your life please..."